


Ships in the Night

by DimensionWitch



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types
Genre: Bullying, Canon-Typical Violence, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff and Angst, Homophobic Language, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Masturbation, Minor canon divergence, Romance, Sexual Tension, adorable dead fennec, minor Iron Bull/Female Travelyan
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-12
Updated: 2016-03-27
Packaged: 2018-05-01 05:57:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 16,630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5194724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DimensionWitch/pseuds/DimensionWitch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Varric had a friend who could help. Varric had a friend who could… help? Dorian considered all he knew about the dwarf and his friends usually involved contacts in the Cotarie, Carta, a couple of smuggles, a handful of thieves and at least a few murderers.<br/>So when the so-called friend turned out to be Garrett Hawke, the Champion of Kirkwall, Dorian found himself wishing the man didn't hate Tevinter as much as he seemed to.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Because these two have SO much potential :)  
> Will have about 3 to 5 chapters...

Varric had a friend who could help. Varric had a _friend_ who could… help? Dorian considered all he knew about the dwarf and his friends usually involved contacts in the Cotarie, Carta, a couple of smuggles, a handful of thieves and at least a few murderers. All fairly decent people according to the storyteller but one never really knew what the man considered _decent._ So when the news of this supposed new ally hit the tavern – because, let’s be honest, there was no such thing as a secret in Skyhold – rumors immediately spread about the integrity of said friend.

As it turned out, the mystery man was none other than Garrett Hawke – the Champion of Kirkwall.

“I have to say, Varric. When it comes to hiding things you take the toll.” Dorian took a sip of his Ferelden Ale and grimaced at the taste “I mean… how one keeps the Champion of Kirkwall a secret from our lovely, yet terrifying Seeker, is beyond me.”

Varric sighed with a smirk “It takes years and years of practice, Sparkler. I would be long dead by now if I wasn’t good at keeping secrets.”

Sera made a noise of agreement over the loaf of bread currently stuffed in her mouth. At least, Dorian thought it was agreement… it could very well be choking. One was never sure but she wasn’t blue yet so he figured it was alright and took another sip of his so-called-ale. Why he insisted on drinking the swill was long lost to him by now “Still, the man is quite the vision. A southern mage rising to a position of honor and distinction, having a direct hand in the rebellion and still managing to pass by undetected for all this time.”

“Plus, he’s got a great ass.” spoke The Bull nudging Dorian in the shoulder and making his ale dance.

“Thank you.” spoke a deep voice from behind them. Varric grinned like a cat at the dumbfounded expressions of his friends. Other than Bull, the others had yet to meet the Champion face to face and boy! Was it worth the wait…! Sera seemed lost between spitting whatever bread was left or swallowing it – and now she _did_ turn a little blue. Bull had no qualms in letting his eyes slide over the mage’s body with a lewd grin and Dorian? Dorian must have been a little tipsier than he thought because he stared, mouth wide open like a fish, for a good ten minutes before so eloquently informing everyone “Oh look, he’s here.”

***

If that welcome hadn’t diminished the Champion’s entertainment, what came next certainly did. As soon as Hawke learned of Dorian’s origin he proceeded to glare and even now, weeks after his arrival, he still ignored – or downright avoided – Dorian at all cost. Not that the Altus cared. Why would he? Ever since he had joined the Inquisition he had received the same, or worst, treatment from far less interesting people. At least Hawke seemed to have a personal reason to dislike him other than joining the mass opinion that all Tevinters were evil.

That, however, didn’t mean Dorian couldn’t enjoy the other side of the Champion. Particularly his right side when he swung his staff over his head, shirtless and straining those fine muscled arms; or his front side when he practiced a quick series of spells, perfectly toned abs clenching with the effort and chest rising with panting breaths; or even his back side when the man used his staff for melee combat, leaving nothing to imagination as the tension rose up his hard legs to his even harder – Dorian was sure – bottom and then flowed to his back, shoulders in a perfectly straight line.

Oh yes… Many times Dorian had been blessed with the view from his little niche at the library which gave him full view of the courtyard but this was a whole new torment. The man was pure muscle and sweat and, Maker help him, that beard! Of course, he told himself, even if Hawke hadn’t declared full animosity toward him Dorian was no fool to set his eyes on the Champion. It would only bring trouble…

He was about to turn back to his impending research when the Champion’s eyes rose to meet his. Impossible… surely the man couldn’t actually _see_ him from that far away…? Name aside, he didn’t actually have that good of a vision… did he? Before he could think more on the matter the other turned and left the sparring ring, much to Dorian’s annoyance and, honestly, a bit of relief.

***

“The man hates me, Bull! For no good reason!” he was sure the words were slurred at this point but the vile taste of the ale seemed to keep him grounded.

“Come on, Dorian. They all hate you for no good reason. It never bothered you this much before.” the other said with a knowing grin.

“The others are commoners. I expected the great Champion of Kirkwall to have better judgement of people, but nooooo!”

“And this has nothing to do with you watching him practice from you little peeping spot?”

“It’s not a peeping – I do no such thing!”

“Sorry, sorry. You must have been drooling over something else. Wait! Was it me? I’m flattered!” Bull grinned knowingly and Dorian had no qualms with groaning in defeat before letting his head slump on the table.

“I hate you…”

***

Hawke, as it turned out, was indeed avoiding Dorian and when confronted with this over drinks at the tavern, he made no effort to hide it.

“I have no reason to like him.” he said with a careless shrug.

“You have no reason to not like him either.” said Varric, immediately raising his hands in surrender to Hawke’s glare “Alright, aright! He’s from Tevinter. They hurt Broody and you want them all dead. I agree! But Sparkler is actually considered a pariah among his fellow countrymen. That should count for something...”

“I can’t believe you gave him a nickname.” the champion muttered with a slight pout.

“I can’t believe you’re actually pouting over this.” Varric sighed “You know me. Real names get me confused.”

Hawke grumbled something unintelligent and sipped his beer, relishing in the taste he had missed for so long after leaving Ferelden.

“Look, all I’m saying is give the man a chance. He might surprise you.”

“And he’s pretty to look at.” pipped Bull as he passed by their table. Hawke thought he saw the Qunari trading glances with Varric but his state of tiredness and his beer infused brain told him to let it go.

A couple of hours later found Hawke leaving the tavern and making his way to the room the Inquisitor had so generously offered. He was sure it was this way. Yes! Up the stairs, turn right… or was it left? He didn’t remember seeing painted walls or having hearing birds but he _was_ going up so he couldn’t be that wrong.

“Lost your way?” came a voice to his left. He turned to find the mage – Dorian (Maker he sounded like Fenris) – sitting in what looked like a very comfortable chair, surrounded by books, eyes locked on a page “If you’re looking for you room, it’s thought that door, passed Madame Vivienne’s sleeping area.” his head finally rose, his lips with a smirk “Try not to wake her. She’ll probably freeze you on sight.”

Hawke tried to come up with a retort but liking Ferelden ale had this effect on people. Dorian, on the other hand, seemed to have recognized his state and simply stared at him, trying, in vain, not to let his mirth show.

“You… How do you know where my room is?”

“Because it’s right next to mine.”

This seemed to have taken a toll on Hawke’s mushy brain and he narrowed his eyes, trying very hard to think of a clever comeback. Unfortunately, all he came up with was “I’ve never seen you there!” it came out a bit more accusingly than it was supposed to but it’s not like he had any control over his own mouth.

“That’s because you’ve never invited me." he chuckled at the other's confused expression "And you usually take another route.” Dorian drawled with a cat-like grin.

“Why do you watch me practice?” Hawke asked, again having no control over his mouth. Dorian’s grin only grew as he closed his book, leaned back on the chair and let his gaze wonder over the Champion’s well-toned body.

“Curiosity, boredom… the inexplicable urge to see half-naked man sweat.”

His eyes locked with Hawke’s and the man actually blushed. It was too adorable and raw at the same time and Dorian was having a very hard time hiding his glee, bent on drawing more reactions from the other mage.

“I know what you’re doing.” whispered Hawke, narrowed eyes traveling over Dorian’s form. It left the tevinter on edge but he made sure to stay very still, even as Hawke began walking to him “You can’t fool me so easily.”

“And what, pray tell, am I doing?”

Hawke stopped right in front of him, legs touching “You’re trying to seduce me.”

“Am I?” the other nodded in answer “And why would I do that? Some evil plot to twist the Champion’s mind and have him ally with Tevinter, perhaps?”

“You don’t fool me.”

“So you’ve said. However, Serah, if I were trying to seduce you…” his ankle rose to slide over Hawke’s leg and the other man’s eyes fluttered against his will “we wouldn’t still be talking.”

Hawke leaned down, hands on the armchair and face inches from Dorian’s. His hazel eyes had a menacing glint - which quickly shut all blood flow to Dorian’s brain - and his breath, despite the Fereldan ale, was intoxicating “Are all Tevinter’s like you?” he whispered.

“Charming?”

“Whores.”

Dorian felt like he had been slapped and he must have looked it too because a small flick of concern showed in the Champion’s face before it was erased. Dorian took this as an opportunity to regain his composure. Blank mask in place, he leaned into the other man’s space, eye to eye and lips a breath away “You’re room is that way. Try not to get lost again.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title inspired by the song "Ships in the night" by Mat Kearney (because the lyrics fit) :)  
> Comments are appreciated! <3


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New chapter! I really enjoy writing this. Hope you enjoy reading it :)

_Inquisitor,_

_Warden Stroud is missing. Supposedly captured by Venatori. Scouts returned with little information. Could use some help._

_Scout Harding_

 

“I want you two working on this.”

“WHAT?!”

When Inquisitor Travelyan glared at them from across the War Table, Dorian felt like a child being reprimanded. Her green eyes bore a hole in him until he gave up and, yes, pouted. Next to him, Hawke crossed his arms in a “Champion stance” and opened his mouth to object but one raised eyebrow from the Inquisitor, daring him to speak, was enough to buy his silence. He dared a glance at Dorian who completely ignored him and walked out of the room, head held high.

“Inquisitor I really don’t think-.”

“I’m sorry Hawke but I need you two on this. If I could spare more men I would but with the way things are…” she sighed and Hawke could tell how tired the woman was. The dark circles under her eyes reminded him of the burden she carried – like he had carried not that long ago - and he didn’t want to add to it. But then again he _really_ didn’t want to be on a mission with Dorian so…

“I’m more than capable of handling this for myself.”

“And if you die I have to tell the world I killed the Champion.”

“I doubt one more mage will make much of a difference.”

“Dorian is stronger than you think and he knows the Venatori better than anyone here.” Hawke might have murmured something similar to _yeah, because they’re all friends_ but the Inquisitor ignored him and continued “I know you’re not on good terms but I need you to do this. Please.”

How could he refuse…?

***

“I should have refused!” he told Varric at the tavern. It turned out that was quickly becoming his favorite place in Skyhold. It reminded him of the good days at the Hanged Man and he liked the company. It was infinitely better than _other areas_ he so easily avoided now.

“You couldn’t.” spoke Bull to his left “No one can refuse the Inquisitor. It’s the eyes, see? She has those soft, doe eyes and if you look at them long enough – bam! You’re trapped!” he nudged Hawke on the shoulder “That’s how she got me.”

“Imagine the Chief’s surprise when he realized she actually _wasn’t_ like any other women he’d know.” teased Krem “Glowing hand notwithstanding.”

Bull scowled at his first before turning his attention back to Hawke “So… you and Dorian… all alone; sharing a tent in the cold desert night, having to fight the urge as you cuddle to keep warm…” his grin only grew at the other man’s expression; Hawke was fighting a blush but his neck had turned slightly red and his mouth opened and closed like a fish “I don’t blame you. If I wasn’t in a _committed relationship_ …”

“We obviously have very different tastes.” Hawke deadpanned “Besides I have no _urge_ to control. I hate the man and everything he stands for. I only accepted this mission for the Inquisitor’s sake and because Stroud is a friend. I don’t need some _magister_ to help me-.”

“Altus!” came the chorus correction.

“- _nor_ do I think he’s capable.”

“Sparkler has many quirks but he holds his stance in battle.” said Varric with a knowing grin.

“Yeah…” agreed Bull “Those muscles aren’t just for show you know.”

“Tired, hurting… Why won’t they leave me alone? Pick on someone else? I’ve proved myself. I helped them, saved them. There’s nothing more… nowhere else… Tired, so tired…”

“Hey Kid” said Varric “I thought we agreed to not pick on people’s minds. At least not in public.”

Hawke seemed to be the only person there not sure of what was happening. He had heard of Cole before but to actually meet the spirit was a whole new experience.

“I’m sorry. I knew I shouldn’t… but he’s so sad.” all eyes followed the boy’s and landed on Dorian sitting at the bar, head down.

“He’s not even pretending not to like the beer.” said Bull “This isn’t good.” he stood and walked toward the other mage, taking a seat there.

“So, what you did just now…” started Hawke “those were his thoughts?”

“It was his pain.” answered Cole as if that made it easier to understand.

“Let’s just say you’re not the only person here who doesn’t like Sparkler.” added the dwarf “At least you have a personal reason while most people just… follow the crowd. _Tevinters are bad. Must hate!_ It’s complicated.”

Hawke looked back and saw Bull place a hand on the Dorian’s shoulder. When the mage flinched Bull turned serious and after some traded words took Dorian’s arm and raised his sleeve. He scowled heavily and Hawke could swear he heard him growl but the other mage tried a smile and shook his head. After a few more chosen words Dorian stood, gave Bull’s shoulder a squeeze and left the tavern.

“They hurt him.” Cole’s eyes turned to the Champion “ _You_ hurt him. Now he’ll hurt you.”

Before Hawke could make sense of what was happening, Bull’s stupidly large fist connected with his jaw and sent him sprawling over two tables. When he came to, the other was crouched next to him, a furious glint in his eye “I like you Champion. I think you mean well, that’s why you only get a punch.” he leaned in closer “But call him a whore again and I’ll break you in half. He’s got enough shit to deal with.”

As Bull stormed up the stairs and Krem helped Hawke up, Varric looked over at his friend and smirked “Just like old times, eh?”

***

Dorian did not miss the Western Approach. Really! He had no problem, whatsoever, with never seeing it again. No problem at all.

“Champion, Lord Pavus. Welcome to the Western Approach.”

Dorian hated his life.

“Scout Harding.” Hawke acknowledged “Any news on Stroud?”

“I’m afraid not. We sent a new group to scout the area but they haven’t returned yet. The previous groups don’t have much to offer either. We know of at least two Venatori camps in the area but they’re empty.”

“Empty?” asked Dorian “As in _we’re going out for a stroll_ or _we’re tired of all this sand_?”

“Hum… the second one, I guess…”

“Can’t say I blame them.”

“Glad to know you have so much in common.” said Hawke with a glare.

“Yes, we’re all very good friends. Back in Tevinter we used to braid each others hair and talk about boys and world domination.”

“Hum... I have the reports of the previous scout groups, if you want to see them.” Scout Harding said, glancing between the two mages.

Hawke nodded and followed her, completely ignoring Dorian who chose to stay behind. If he was going to spend Maker knew how long in the middle of nowhere with the Champion of Kirkwall and his attitude then he was going to need some distance. A quick word with Scout Harding or any other and he would have his own tent or, possibly, the tent of a cute recruit who like mages.

“I’m sorry, Lord Pavus but the sleeping arrangements can’t be changed. You’ll have to share a tent with Serah Hawke” Dorian swore he saw the mischief glint in the dwarf’s eyes.

Sharing a tent with the man couldn’t be all that bad. After all, he was used to dealing with big, burly, hairy Fereldens who smelled of sweat and dog shit. Except Hawke smelled of leather and magic and that damn Fereldan ale that Dorian secretly liked. The audacity!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and suggestions are very appreciated! :)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for all the kudos! You really are the best! <3  
> For those of you reading [Burnt Light](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5035783/chapters/11576194) there will be a new update very soon :)

Hawke groaned and blinked awake, the night’s cold giving way to a heavy heat that made him sweat from just breathing. He pushed the blanket aside as if it offended him and sat with a crack on his back. To his right, Dorian was peacefully sleeping - or perfectly faking it – but Hawke couldn’t be made to care. It was bad enough that he had to be on this damn mission with the man, now he actually had to share a tent. He did try to ask Scout Harding for a way out but she just laughed and walked away.

Outside, the Inquisition’s soldiers and scouts had already begun the new day’s work. He supposed he should too. The quicker they found Stroud and dealt with the Venatori, the quicker they could go back. He only hoped his friend was still alive…

He sighed and stood atop the blankets, nudging Dorian with his foot “Wake up. We have work to do.”

The other mage groaned and sit up, eyes still closed, hair mussed and mustache askew. Hawke covered a laugh with a cough but the other barely noticed, still half-asleep. _When he’s quiet he’s actually manageable_ Hawke thought. _And he’s pretty to look at_ Bull’s voice added. Hawke had to agree that, even in his sleepy state, the man was good-looking. He had sharp features, a well-toned body and the mustache was almost cute. Then there were those green tinted eyes looking at him with sleep and confusion – wait! What?!

He quickly looked down and made a show of trying to find his boots, covering the blush that was beginning to tinge his ears. Damn him for being caught staring and damn the ‘Vint for making him react like a young woman, blushing at every turn.

He cleared his throat, still not meeting the other’s eyes “The sun’s up, _your lordship_. Hurry up and get ready.”

“Good morning to you, too.” Dorian deadpanned. He stood, slowly, still clearing the sleep from his eyes when his foot caught Hawke’s missing boot and he lost his balance. Hawke was quick enough to grab his right arm but the other hissed and pulled away as if burned. For what seemed like hours they simply stared at each other until Dorian straightened his back and placed his usual mask of outrage.

“Can’t you leave the damn boots on your side of the tent? They’re _your_ boots after all.”

Hawke remained silent, not once fooled by the other mage’s outburst. There were too many cracks on his perfect mask. When Dorian raised his eyebrows as if to ask _what?!_ Hawke shrugged and chose to play along “Must be a Fereldan thing. We’re all barbarians after all.” he sat on the cot and made a show of putting on his dark leather boots while Dorian glared with no real fervor. As the altus turned to find his own shoes Hawke noticed how he still covered the right shoulder with his hand.

***

“Look out!” Dorian’s voice was warning enough for Hawke to dodge the incoming snap of the quillback’s jaws. A quick roll to the side and he was able to sink his staff’s blade into the beast’s neck, killing it almost instantly.

“I believe that makes twelve for you and… oh yes! Fifteen for me!”

The Champion rolled his eyes at the smug mage and resumed his walk over the hot sand “We’re not keeping score.”

“You only say that because you’re losing.”

“I don’t know what’s worse… the smugness or the constant complaining.”

“Now, now… It’s civilized competition. As civilized as it can be in the middle of the desert with wild animals and venatori…”

Hawke shook his head and kept walking, doing his best to ignore the other man’s presence. On his side, Dorian was quickly giving up the playful banter he found so easily with other members of the Inquisition. _Even with Blackwall_ , he thought. They had clashed at first but even then the conversation existed – in the form of insults and snarky remarks but still. With Hawke, it was like throwing stones at a wall – they hit and they fall. No bouncing back.

“You know…” he tried “I went to Kirkwall once.”

“You and hundreds of other people.” came the dead reply.

“Not my style but not the worst place I’ve been to either. I met the strangest people… surprised I didn’t meet Varric; he knows everyone.” when no response came, Dorian allowed a sigh and decided to let it go but his mouth had a nasty habit of running off “Might I know the reason for such distaste? Were you personally injured by – as they say – _one of mine_ or is this simply a matter of fitting in and following the crowd? _Those ‘vints sure are bastards. Let’s all hate them and start a club.”_

He almost crashed into the Hawke as the other man suddenly stopped and turned to glare at Dorian with a heat that made the other mage want to run and kneel at the same time “I do have a reason! I’m not in the habit of hating people just for the fun of it.”

“Well, let’s hear it then! No reason to keep it all inside!” Dorian was well aware they were shouting in a desert filled with savage creatures but his anger outmatched his judgment.

“One of my closest friends was slave to a magister! He was abused and tortured to a point where he forgot his own name, where he came from, his family…” Hawke sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose in an attempt to calm down “He was left to die so the bastard could save his own skin and when he managed to escape he was hunted like an animal.” he stepped closer to Dorian, much like he had that night in the library, only this time there was no ale on his breath nor dangerous glint in his eyes. He was angry, yes but mostly tired and just… sad “You use people, treat them like _things_ and throw them away when they outlive their use. You sell them and torture them and _rape_ them for your own amusement until they’re no longer good enough for your twisted games. This is why I hate people like you. I would see Tevinter fall and _laugh_.”

They were close enough that Dorian could see small prickles of tears gather in the other man’s eyes. He, too, felt a weight on his chest from Hawke’s words but kept his gaze steady “Hate me then. You are simply one of many.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and suggestions are very appreciated! :)  
> Let me know what you think!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New chapter! I am on a roll with this story, it's so much fun to write!  
> Thank you so much for all the support! <3

The search for Stroud was taking longer than anyone wanted to admit. The two men barely spoke to each other and even Scout Harding was having trouble dealing with them. The night they returned to camp after what Dorian called – in his mind, of course – _the champion’s bitter party of one_ , they had taken turns going into the tent. Dorian went first and by the time Hawke finally climbed in he was already asleep.

Now they stood on opposite sides of a small table, bent over a map of the Approach, with a confused Scout Harding in-between.

“We can search this area again.” said Hawke “All these camps were empty but they may have some clues to where they went.”

“I can send a few scouts to collect evidence.”

“While they’re at it, see if they can find an area of water.” Two heads snapped in Dorian’s direction but he wasn’t fazed.

“Feel like taking a swim?” Hawke’s patience was stretched thin. His friend was missing – probably dead – and the damn mage wanted to slow them down even more?

“I would like a bath, yes. It’s been days and I’m starting to fell sticky.”

“Must be all that slime in your veins.”

“Careful! I might be poisonous.”

“Let’s hope you bite your tongue, then. One less Tevinter filth to clean.”

“Oh! A dig at my homeland!? It’s so rare these days I was beginning to think you were warming up to me.”

“Can we please take a minute to focus here?!” said Scout Harding cutting Hawke’s – no doubt unpleasant – reply “We have already found a few areas with water, Lord Pavus. There’s one not far from here if you wish-.”

“My dear, although I do desire a bath like an anders desires a good vintage my point here was completely misunderstood.” he pointed to the map with a flourish “These areas are filled with Inquisition camps; these three have a water source but it’s small and of difficult access. These are the areas we have already searched and there is no trace of the Venatori.”

“Your point?” asked Hawke, crossing his arms in “Champion stance”.

“When we first arrived I asked if the Venatori were clearing out camps as if they went for a walk or as if they hated the sand. Again, my point was ignored but if you use your head this time I’m sure you can follow.” Hawke glared but was pointedly ignored “I assume we can all agree that it’s the second option. They are leaving – literally. Someone gathered all the Venatori on the Approach and sent them to _one_ place; a place where they could safely await whatever mad plan is in store.”

“Well… they could be gone by now.” added Scouth Harding “What’s stopping them from just leaving?”

“The borders…” spoke Hawke, finally realizing what the other mage meant “We control the borders. A massive force like that could never pass by undetected.”

“We captured a few groups trying to pass our troops but they weren’t large enough to be a problem.” said the dwarf.

“Because they’re decoy.” continued Dorian with a grin only matched by Hawke’s “They are planning to leave this Maker forsaken piece of sand but they can’t do it the usual way. And if the Venatori are known for something it’s their flare for dramatics and-.”

“Magic….” for a moment, both men forgot the trials of previous days and just stood there, with matching grins, taking in the other’s joy at the discovery. Dorian felt his fingers twitch with the urgent need to run and hug the Champion but then Hawke moved to stand next to him and inspect the map and Dorian swore he saw the man’s right hand slide in his direction. Dorian was about to let his own hand do the same when Scout Harding remembered.

“So where are they, then?”

Hawke’s head snapped up and his hand jerked away. Dorian cleared his throat and pointed to a farther area on the map “Where there’s water.”

***

“There! At the top.” spoke Hawke as they hid behind a rock. He pointed at a large keep on top of the mountain, perfect to house a massive force of Venatori.

“Wonderful!” Dorian said sarcastically “Now all we have to do is climb the steep and completely open rock, nock on the door and hope they let us in.”

“Try smiling. It might help.”

“Was that a joke?! Oh my blushing but cheeks! You _do_ have a sense of humor.” Hawke merely rolled his eyes as he so often did around the other mage “And here I thought you only knew how to grunt.”

The Champion sighed and pointedly ignored him “We should send a message to Skyhold. There’s no way we can take them out on our own.”

“Hum… there may be some issues with that plan.”

Hawke groaned in frustration and turned to argue when he found Dorian flanked by two venatori archers and with a dagger on his throat. Hawke tried to gently reach his staff but one of the archers turned his way and the man with the dagger tightened his hold on Dorian.

“No need for that.” the held mage casually spoke “He hates me.”

If Hawke noticed the flash of sadness on the other man’s face he never said. Still, he raised his hands in surrender and hoped they could somehow find a way of the mess they were in.

***

“Welcome, friends! I am Sevris.” spoke a man Dorian could only assume was the leader “I apologize for not greeting you in more… _amiable_ conditions but as you can see we are in a bit of a hurry.”

He gestured for Dorian to come closer but when the mage didn’t move, the man with the dagger shoved him hard “Rather uncalled for…” mumbled Dorian making the leader laugh.

“I have heard of you. The Tevinter. I hear you left your home in order to help the Inquisition. A bold move…”

“Small thinking is for peasants, I always say.” he noticed how Hawke’s eyes narrowed at his words but if they were going to, at least, survive this than he had to act quickly and damn the man’s feelings.

The leader laughed again and Dorian saw it as a good sign “Oh, I like you! A quick thinker, aren’t you? Figured _why not try to use this to my advantage and trick the venatori_ , am I right?”

“Partially... It was more on the lines of _how do I use these simpletons in order to get what I want._ ” Hawke’s eyes closed as if to say “idiot” but Sevris seemed amused by Dorian’s honesty.

“And what, pray tell, is it that you want?”

“To go home.” the reply came so quickly and his expression was so earnest that even Hawke believed the mage’s wish. Could it be true, then? Had Dorian found an opportunity to return home? Varric did say the man was a pariah… maybe the venatori were his way back to society. No… the Dorian he knew would never-! _Oh_ , he thought, _I don’t know him at all…_

“My sources told me you left on your own accord.”

“I was forced to do it. Complications, misunderstandings, that sort of thing.”

“And once you reached Ferelden you helped the Inquisition against the rebel mages. Ran all the way to Haven, from what I heard.”

“Oh? Would you have done differently?” Sevris was taken aback by the question but remained curious “There I was, surrounded by southerners, the only Tevinter in sight. Word spreads of the Herald of Andraste, sent to seal the Breach and cleanse the world of all evil. I met her in Redcliffe, saw her power with my own eyes, even tried to gather favor against my former mentor but she chose to recruit the Templars instead. What was I to do? The Elder One gathered the rebel mages and marched on Haven. I was left alone with only two options: run and hide… or _run and hide_.” Sevris’s grin was disturbing but the other venatori looked around confused. Dorian heaved a dramatic sigh and explained “Meaning I _ran_ to Heaven and _hid_ among their ranks. As one of the Inquisitor’s companions, I might add.”

“So you’re saying you are a spy?” asked Sevris.

“Call it what you wish. I always hated labels.”

“And you, Champion? Do you believe you’re companion’s words?”

“He’s not my companion.” Hawke answered, distaste evident in his voice “And I know full well what people like you are capable of.”

Dorian glanced at the man with the dagger “Told you he hated me.”

“Prove it.” Sevris’ expression was unreadable. It made Dorian’s skin crawl but he maintained his carefully places mask. After all, he was Tevinter born and raised. As much as he hated to admit it, deception was in his blood “If you are what you say you are, I wish to see prove.”

“And how do expect me to do that? Kill the Inquisitor and bring you her marked hand? It’s a shame she’s hundreds of miles away, really.”

One look from Sevris and Hawke was brought to his knees, archers and staves at the ready. The whole Keep seemed to have stopped to witness the betrayal “You say he hates you… but do you hate _him_?” he placed a dagger in Dorian’s hand and smiled cruelly “Kill him.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and suggestions are very appreciated! :)  
> Let me know what you think!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you like this chapter! It was so much fun to write!  
> Thank you so much for all the support! <3
> 
> To Reika88 - hope Dorian's idea doesn't disappoint :)

“I beg your pardon?” Dorian looked between Hawke, Sevris and the dagger in his hand “You want me to kill him… with _this?_ ”

“Well I can’t very well give you your staff back now, can I?” when Dorian didn’t move the leader insisted “You asked how to prove your loyalty. This seems more than reasonable.”

“Well it is very much not.” if Dorian noticed the distaste in Sevris’ expression, he didn’t even flinch “I am decidedly _not_ a commoner and my time among southerners as not diminished my pride. _This_ -” he held the dagger between two fingers, as if the object personally offended him “is the weapon of choice for thieves and _smugglers_.” Hawke noticed how Sevris’ nostrils flared at the term. _Hitting him close to home_ , he thought “ _Not_ the appropriate means with which an _Altus_ disposes of an adversary.” he let the dagger drop on the sand between his feet “Hand me my staff or kill him yourself.”

Sevris was stunned for a moment – as were the rest of the Venatori. Hawke had to admit, if the other mage was, indeed, faking it, he was doing a damn good job at it. Still, the problem remained... even if Dorian managed to retrieve his staff they were two against hundreds. If dealing with the Qunari had proven anything was that Hawke loved playing with fire but even he didn’t like those odds.

“If you are going to kill me then at least do it like a man!” his voice was rough from being silent so long and his throat was dry but it was loud enough to draw everyone’s attention.

Sevris seemed to snap out of his trance, throwing his head back and laughing like a mad man “Oh what a pair you are! _You_ ” he pointed to Dorian “expect me to just hand over your weapon and _you_ ” he sneered at Hawke “expect me to release you and, what a coincidence, hand you _your_ weapon! I must say, you make for fine entertainment!”

“You should see him drunk…” drawled Dorian, eyes on Hawke who scowled.

“If I’m going to die anyway, why refuse?” insisted the champion “What can I alone do, even with a staff? There are hundreds of you here.”

“True…” Sevris moved towards Hawke and the man with the dagger pulled the champion’s head up by his hair. Hawke barely contained a hiss and his face was a mask of anger that made the leader grin like a beast “But why give you the chance?” he dropped to Hawke’s level and ran a bony hand over the man’s face. Hawke tried to jerk away but the grip on his hair kept him still “I much prefer you like this. Kneeling at my feet, nervous…” he ran his thumb over Hawke’s lips and Dorian’s nails bit into his palm as he fought the urge to tear the bastard’s hands away “So… helpless…”

Dorian took a deep breath and put on his superior mask, practically sneering at the other man “If you are done playing, we have more important matters to discuss.”

“I don’t like your tone, boy!” growled Sevris, releasing Hawke and towering over Dorian, menacingly.

“And I don’t like to be kept waiting! No matter what you think I am – spy or traitor – I am still an Altus and _still_ your superior in every way the Imperium considers significant; so I suggest we reach a decision quickly because if you are incapable of aiding my return then you are of no further use to me… _boy._ ”

Hawke stared, slack-jawed, at the man before him. It was a completely different person from the whining mage who hated the hot sand and the cold nights and the mosquitoes; the man who had flirted with him in the library and secretly liked Fereldan beer. No… this was the sort of man Fenris had warned him about; the powerful mages who controlled everyone and everything – the Magisters. He saw it now. In the dark glint in the mage’s eyes and the stunned look on Sevris’ face. The archers lowered their bows, afraid of targeting Dorian who, in their mind, was now the most powerful man in the Keep.

“You… your rank means nothing here.” Sevris stuttered “I am-.”

“Beginning to bore me.”

Hawke had to suppress at laugh at how quickly Sevris’ mouth snapped shut. He looked around, confused, trying to find his footing when a messenger arrived. He heaved a visible sigh of relief.

“My lord! A message! From the Imperium!”

Sevris snatched the letter from the man’s hands and read it three times. By the end, his hands were shaking and he was beginning to sweat. He glanced at Dorian but couldn’t hold his gaze, eyes dropping to the ground “My lord… I beg your forgiveness.” Dorian’s mask almost slipped from shock but he held it in place “I have just received word from Minrathous. They confirm you are a valued member of our organization.”

“Show me this letter.”

Sevris handed the note to Dorian and Hawke saw how the man’s lips quirked ever so slightly. For a moment he feared his minute suspicions about the man's duplicity were true but Dorian managed a glance his way and he understood. He wanted to know what was in that note but was still kneeling and being held. His only option was to use the only available tool – his mouth.

“You son of a bitch! I knew they were all mad for trusting you, I told them!”

“Yes, yes… I ‘m evil and you hate me. You said that already.”

“I should have killed you while you slept, you bastard!”

“That wouldn’t be very noble of you, would it?”

“My lord, I can dispose of the prisoner quickly.” spoke Sevris as he bent to pick up the dagger. Dorian was quick to step on the man’s hand, who cried out in pain.

“Now, now… I thought we had agreed that daggers were beneath me and I wish to dispose of this _savage_ ” Hawke’s lips quirked at the term “myself.” he leaned down and stage whispered “Am I allowed to have my staff back, now? _Please._ ”

Sevris nodded vigorously and Dorian removed his foot. As soon as he was free, the former leader began shouting orders and soon, Dorian was reunited with his staff.

“And the prisoner too.”

“My lord?”

“He wants to die fighting, I shall grant his last wish.”

Soon after, Hawke was released and his staff was returned to him; the two mages locked eyes, amused and shocked at the turn of events. Hawke had archers on the battlements targeting him and every venatori warrior or rogue in the area did the same. He briefly wondered where the mages were but was distracted when Dorian spoke.

“This is a very old Keep. How many people do you think died here?”

Sevris glanced at Hawke with a grin, probably thinking he would be one more “Thousands, my lord.”

“Ah.” Dorian turned to Hawke and created a barrier around himself, hoping the other mage was smart enough to understand and quick enough to react “Good to know.”

Before anyone could ask, Dorian’s staff hit the ground and a blue wave spread through the Keep. Hawke and the others stared confusedly at Dorian who merely grinned as screams began to fill the air and the dead rose from the sand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and suggestions are very appreciated! :)  
> Let me know what you think!


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This got a little syrupy towards the end... =P I blame the music!  
> New chapter almost done! Should be up tomorrow (or today if my internet doesn't die again).

Hawke cast a barrier just in time to prevent an arrow from lodging in on his shoulder. All around him dead rose from the ground and the more victims they claimed, the more joined their ranks. He glanced at Dorian who seemed too at ease with the situation and wondered if the mage used this particular trick often.

When one of the newly undead Venatori attacked Hawke with a sword, Dorian threw a new magical wave and the corpse stopped dead in its tracks, glanced between both mages and ran off to attack his former comrades.

“Quickly now!” said Dorian heading to the Keep’s inner chamber “They don’t recognize you as an enemy but the living Venatori might think differently.”

Servis was nowhere to be found – _probably ran to hide, the coward_ , thought Hawke – and the remaining force of venatori were fairly busy but they still had to dodge incoming arrows, throw a few fireballs or chain lightening and get down to melee combat. Their barriers could only hold on for so long and Dorian found himself with a few new cuts he was sure were going to scar; Hawke, on the other hand, seemed to revel in the hurt and fight even harder, a mad grin on his face. _No wonder he defeated a horde of rampaging Qunari,_ thought Dorian with a small sense of surprise.

“I meant to ask earlier but…” Hawke shouted over the screams and his own effort to fend off another venatori warrior “aren’t we going the wrong way?”

Dorian, busy with his own attacker – the man with the dagger, no less – only managed a “no” before side-stepping the man’s blades. He took the opportunity to slam his attacker’s chin with the top of his staff, leaving him on the floor with a dragon shaped bruise. He turned just in time to see Hawke deflect the Venatori warrior’s sword and stumble, his leg giving in. The warrior took the opportunity to strike again, catching the Champion in the chest and leaving a cut from his shoulder to his hip. Hawke actually fell this time and Dorian had a second to use his companion’s fall to send a mind blast, leaving the attacker disoriented enough for Hawke to make him trip and for Dorian to stab the man with his staff’s blade.

Hawke’s breath was heavy as he tried to laugh “That was something.”

“A little too hands-on for my taste but it served its purpose.”

Hawke rolled his eyes and let the other mage help him up. They had, somehow, managed to find themselves in a more secluded area of the Keep, safe from the Venatori still raging outside.

“So… not the wrong way…?”

“We might as well find out what madness they are planning. Since we’re here, anyway.” shrugged Dorian.

“And here I thought you wanted nothing more than a bath.”

“I do! But it will feel so much better after knowing I stopped a Venatori plot and made it out alive.”

“We still need to find Stroud and the cells are, likely, a few floors down.” Hawke reminded him.

“Let’s be honest, if he’s still alive that’s the safest place for him to be in right now.” Hawke seemed torn between agreeing and leaving to find his friend but Dorian held both his arms and forced the man to look at him “Hawke, we _will_ find him.”

The Champion nodded, reassured. He hated to admit but the other mage was right. Even if Stroud was alive who knew if he was in fighting condition or badly injured. Hawke prayed the man was alive and as well as could be expected and nodded for Dorian to keep going.

Just as the Altus turned to leave, a blade found its way into his leg and he let out a scream of pain. Looking down, he saw the man he had stunned earlier, his dagger deep into Dorian’s thigh. Hawke’s first reaction was to kick the fallen venatori in the face, breaking his nose and pulling the dagger off as the man fell, once again, unconscious.

“ _Kaffas!_ ” Dorian swore as the dagger broke free. Hawke was quick to crouch down and place his hands on the bloody leg “Hum… what are you doing?” Dorian asked, trying to ignore the pain and not focus on Hawke’s hands on his leg or his face so close to- Not the time!

“Hold still… I might be able to ease the pain a little.” a pale green light enveloped Dorian’s leg and he let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. Hawke looked up, a concerned expression on his face “Better?”

“Yes. Very much so. Where did you learn that?”

The Champion stood and looked away, suddenly very interested in his boots “A friend of mine was a healer. He… thought me enough to keep myself alive since I was, in his words, _stupid and reckless_.”

There was a small smile on the man’s lips and Dorian felt a tugging in his chest. Whoever this healer had been, he still held a place in the man’s heart and Dorian was, for lack of a better word, jealous. _It’s absurd really_ , he thought, _I barely know the man._ Yet, there it was... the churning in his stomach as he remembered the other mage hated him. _Best focus on the mission, Dorian. No point going down that road again._

He tried his leg and even though most of the pain was gone he still felt a small weakness that made him limp slightly “It will have to do…” he muttered, following Hawke and making their way into the main chamber.

***

“Maker’s breath…” whispered the Champion as they reached the grand room “Guess we found the mages.”

Before them was a massive orb, made of pure energy, floating above a collective of venatori mages. The orb’s power wavered and the light flickered, creating a deep smell of ozone that, combined with the blood loss, left Dorian feeling a bit too dizzy for his taste.

“Alright?” asked Hawke laying a hand on his shoulder in case he needed to be caught.

“I… yes.” he cleared his throat and slowly stepped away from the other mage “Yes, I’m quite alright. What do you suppose that is?” he wanted to know but he also wanted to change the subject and not have the other man look at him with those concerned eyes that tricked his heart into a run.

“Some form of energy…? It seems to be gathering its power from the mages.”

On the chamber bellow, the mages collective sent wave after wave of magical energy into the orb and Dorian’s staff began to flicker at the same time “We have to get closer.”

Silently they moved behind pillars and fallen rocks, edging closer. The orb trembled and the mages sent stronger waves to counteract it. On the floor lay several dead venatori, their bodies shriveled.

“They’re… dry.” whispered Hawke with a wrinkled nose “It’s like someone drained their blood…”

“Their _life_ to be precise.” said Dorian watching his staff react again to the magic pull “They have a Mortalitasi.”

“What?! Isn’t Nevarra an Inquisition ally?”

“They never fully declared their support. And the Inquisitor received word of a Tevinter mage in the court of King Markus. She feared he didn’t know who the man truly was… Apparently the old king is saner than we thought.”

“Or not… But how do you know this?”

“Can’t you feel it? The pull…? The sudden shift in the air, draining life and creating it anew?” Dorian closed his eyes and took a deep breath, pushing through the ozone and finding that subtle scent of life “It used to smell like spices and incense and feel like warm breeze…”

If his eyes had been open he wouldn’t miss Hawke’s soft gaze. He was transfixed by Dorian; felt the pull, not of life and death but of the other man’s words and found himself drawing closer and closer “What does it feel like now…?”

The small smile in Dorian’s face fell and his brow furrowed as he thought “It feels like… rough stone…” his fingers twitched as he felt it “and fire; parchment and… rain.”

Hawke’s stomach fluttered in dread. He was walking on dangerous ground and a voice he recognized told him _you should know better_ ; but he was never one to listen to past voices and whispered “What else…?”

Dorian’s lips quirked “It smells like…” _leather and magic_.

“Like…?” Hawke insisted, his hand hitching to touch, much like it had the day before, except this time, he wasn’t sure what spurred him to act and trace his fingers over the other man’s hand.

Dorian’s eyes snapped open and he was momentarily lost. Whatever was going through the Champion’s mind, he could not say nor guess; but the man was leaning too close and his hand was warm as it covered Dorian’s completely. Their uneven breaths fell into a steady rhythm and Hawke’s eyes were wide and unfocused and- _oh_.

He took a deep breath and broke eye contact, pulling his hand from under the other’s and, immediately, feeling cold. This seemed to wake Hawke, who blinked and rubbed his eyes. They became focused once more and Dorian tried to hide his disappointment.

“What... happened?”

The Altus cleared his throat and bit back a sob that threatened to rise “Magic, what else? You were under the influence of the spirits that pass through this place. They are summoned by the Mortalitasi to inhabit the body.” _Bravo, Dorian. Magical theory is always helpful when chasing unwanted thoughts_ “Although those are usually small wisps and the body is mummified and-.”

“Hold on!” Hawke groaned and inched the ridge of his nose – a habit it seemed – as he tried to make sense of things “Are you saying they have a Mortalitasi to help them possess bodies?”

“No… whatever they are doing involves the magic but not the process.”

Hawke seemed decidedly lost and heaved a deep sigh “How do you know all this? You mentioned a pull but I didn’t feel anything.”

 _There goes your hope he remembered what happened_ “It must be a Necromancer thing. I’m simply more in tune with this form of magic, hence my staff’s reaction. Don’t feel bad.” he patted Hawke on the shoulder and instantly regretted it when he felt the solid, warm muscle under his hand.

Behind them, a blast shook the entire chamber and Dorian’s staff flickered uncontrollably. They turned just in time to see the orb expand and morph into a portal and five more mages falling dead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What did you guys think? Let me know! =D  
> You can listen to the beautiful piece by Arn Andersson - that's to blame for all the fluff - here: www.yourepeat.com/watch/?v=L5INLqJG-So


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not completely happy with this chapter but you know what they say... the more you fiddle with the it, the worse it gets =P

“A portal…? Of course! _That’s_ how they plan to leave.”

“You were right…” spoke Hawke next to him “They do have a flare for dramatics.”

Just then, an arrow razed Hawke’s cheek, nearly breaking the skin. His reflexes allowed him to dodge the second attempt and throw a fireball at the archer. This, however, drew the attention of the mages who created a reinforced barrier around themselves and sent stronger waves to the portal, needing it to open further.

“If we take out the Mortalitasi we can weaken the portal.” said Dorian, quickly looking around, trying to spot the man “There! By the corner!” he pointed at a man wearing a dark cloak like the others but with a golden skull shaped pin. He stood on shaky feet and turned to Hawke “Go and find Stroud. I’ll stay here and try to reverse this.” Hawke’s brows furrowed and he was about to argue but Dorian raised a hand to silence him “No point arguing with me, I’m incredibly stubborn. Once the Mortalitasi is out, there will be no one to control the flow of ongoing magic to the portal. It will grow unstable and Maker knows what will happen next.”

“Exactly why you shouldn’t do it alone!”

“Listen to me, damn you! There is no timetable! If we wait too long this entire place can be sucked into the portal and I would very much wish to _not_ be here when it happens so stop thinking like a Fereldan for one moment and agree that I’m right!” Hawke was a mixture of shocked and reluctant and Dorian sighed “Our mission was to rescue Stroud. I can’t run to the cells but I _can_ stay here and stop this madness. They are my countrymen, it seems only fitting.”

Hawke wanted to scream _they are nothing like you!_ but, instead, chose to ask “Will you be alright?”

A shadow of hurt passed Dorian’s face but it was quickly replaces by a teasing grin “Didn’t Varric ever tell you the story of how I met the Inquisitor?” when Hawke shook his head Dorian stepped closer and, in a surge of confidence – or realizing the weight of his own mortality – whispered in Hawke’s ear “I’ll tell you when we’re out of here.” and brushed his lips over the man’s cheek in a deliberate caress.

Hawke’s blush was quick to spread as it usually did and Dorian wondered if it always happened or just with him. Pushing that thought aside he turned and made his way to the mages, leaving behind a very red Champion of Kirkwall.

***

All the way to the cells, between fighting venatori, stepping over corpses – the really dead ones – and not getting lost, Hawke didn’t feel his blush diminish one bit. Once again, the other mage had managed to make him redden with a single… what? Kiss…? It had been too long and too certain to have been an accidental brush. And still, somewhere on the back of his mind, the past voice warned him _let it go_. He knew that voice well…

_I tried to warn you, Hawke… I told you I would break your heart…_

He sent a venatori into the wall with a rock fist, leaving cracks on the structure. Those memories made him angry more than they made him sad. Not because of what Anders had done, but because he trusted Hawke to kill him after; he trusted Hawke to be cold, heartless and end the life of the man he loved. _That_ hurt more than any blade and it was etched into his skin deeper than any scar.

He understood the need for a grand gesture like blowing up the Chantry. He even forgave the nine years of silence about it but he knew – more than anything he _knew_ – that by letting Anders live, he had disappointed the man. And in the end, when he left to dethrone Meredith and set things right, Anders had smiled, as if forgiving his weakness.

That was the day he decided to never bear his heart again. To be Hawke, the Champion and friend everyone wants to be around but to never let them get too close. _And yet here you are…_ And yet here he was. Not that he was enamored with Dorian! A few days ago he could barely stand the man. Yet, something had changed and he wasn’t going to lie about it. The man was attractive – he had already established that – and he wasn’t all that bad of a person, after all. But there was more… a feeling in the back of his mind like a pull- _Can’t you feel it? The pull…?_

He stopped dead in his tracks (trapping three venatori in a static cage) as it all came rushing back – the orb, the heavy weight on his chest making it hard to breathe as he hitched to touch Dorian, hanged on his every word, completely enthralled. Was it magic then? Had the orb somehow played with his emotions, making him feel this confusion? _No_ , Anders’ voice told him. _There was no magic in the library, when you blushed at his seduction or in the tent when you stared unashamed while his eyes were closed; there was no magic when your chest tightened at his sadness or when your eyes closed as his lips brushed you cheek._

He heaved a heavy sigh and shook his head. Attraction, then; liking, maybe even caring… but these were all emotions he _could_ control. He was attracted to Isabela but never sailed that ship; he cared about Varric but they were only friends and he liked the Inquisitor but it meant nothing more than that – also Bull would probably kill him.

That moment – as he watched the final venatori fall dead and his static cage dissolve – he decided. Dorian Pavus was not the kind of man Fenris had told him about. But that didn’t mean he was the kind the man Hawke wanted for anything other than friendly banter.

As he finally reached the stairs to the cells, that voice whispered _…_

_Liar_

***

Any hope he had of finding Stroud vanished as he saw the empty cells. Whatever prisoners it once held were either long dead or kept somewhere else. Hawke hoped Stroud was in the latter option. He rummaged through the cells, looking for whatever trace that would help him find his friend but fund nothing. Resigned, he climbed up the stairs and ran back to Dorian.

Whatever he thought he’d find when he reached the inner chamber was definitely _not_ what he found. The portal had grown into a massive black hole, sucking everything into deep nowhere; some of the mages held onto the pillars or piles of stone but they were soon swallowed, along with their lifelines. In a corner, the Mortalitasi lay unconscious on the ground, safe from the portal’s pull.

Hawke looked frantically for Dorian but the mage was nowhere in sight. Fearing the worst, he began to make his way down the chamber and closer to the portal when a hand grabbed his arm and pulled him into a hole on the floor.

“Are you insane?! That thing is eating like Sera on a banquet and you wanted to just waltz right in?!”

Whatever reply Hawke might have had to the other mage’s outburst was denied by a sudden pulse from the portal, sending a wave of magic that rocked the entire structure of the Keep.

“How is your mana?” asked Dorian.

“Barely over half… yours?”

“Same.” he sighed and took Hawke’s staff, tying it to his own with a piece of cloth he ripped from his cloak.

“Hum… what are you doing…?”

“I’m focusing magical energy, using both our staves as on so as to increase efficiency.”

Despite his tiredness, Hawke realized the Altus’ speech was lacking in breath and he saw how the man’s hands trembled slightly as he tied the cloth in strong knots. He was quick to help - accidentally brushing against Dorian’s hands and telling himself it was not the time to go there – when a new blast hit the chamber and a rock fell inches from his foot.

“When I say” Dorian shouted over the blasts “send forth a reinforced barrier. With both our power it should be enough to protect us from the falling rocks.”

Hawke nodded and placed his hand on the joint staves only to have Dorian place his on top. He felt the warmth but also the rapid heartbeat of the other man and wondered if Dorian was used to acting calm when he was honestly scared.

The portal gave one last pulse before pulling in and at Dorian’s word both mages cast a barrier around them, hoping to the Maker it would be enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Comments are appreciated! <3


	8. AUTHOR'S NOTE

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Quick note from yours truly... ^^

Just a quick note to let you all know this story is, in no way whatsoever, dropped! I have, simply, been overwhelmed by that pesky RL lately and haven't found the time to write.  
The story is all planned out - it's simply a matter of getting it to digital paper =D

Thank you all so much for your support and I hope you will stick around for the lovely misadventures of our boys (and girls) <3

p.s: let me know if there is a particular couple you would like to read about. I might feel inspired to do it ;)


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Andraste's knickerweasels! I finally managed to finish this chapter!  
> Thank you so much for waiting and putting up with me. 55 kudos?! Can we make it 100?! ;D
> 
>  

What scared him most was the silence. He couldn’t hear the frizzle of magical energy nor the falling of rocks but that didn’t matter when, try as he might, he couldn’t hear Hawke breathing. Opening his eyes too suddenly for his aching head Dorian cast a quick glance upwards to see the barriers had dissolved but the danger was over and turned to his fallen companion. He shook Hawke’s shoulder slightly and called out the man’s name but there was no answer. A quick check let him know his heart was still beating so Dorian inched closer – a little too close if he was thinking about it – and tried to sense the man’s breath. What he received was a knock on the head when Hawke jolted awake and slammed right into him.

“Ow… _Kaffas…_ you damn savage!” the Altus groaned as he rubbed his head.

“You’re the one leaning all over me!”

“I was trying to see if you were breathing, you oaf!”

“Well, I am! Thank you very much!”

They both sighed and dropped their heads on the hard stone surrounding them, fully exhausted. Hawke let his eyes roam over the mage sitting next to him and noticed the man was panting and pale. Dorian did the same but once met with Hawke’s eyes he quickly looked away.

“Well… that was… something.” said Hawke.

“Something _insane_! Whatever those idiots thought they were doing they had no idea what the outcome could be. We should be thankful the portal wasn’t large enough to suck the whole damn desert in.”

“Quick thinking with the whole _highest authority_ act.”

“Yes, that…I’ve been doing it for years, really. It is, after all, in my blood.”

There it was again… that sadness in the man’s eyes that made Hawke feel like a complete fool for ever having spouted the same nonsense. He allowed his hand to fall on Dorian’s knee - ignoring the way the mage’s cheeks gained a bit of color – and hoped his simple words would be enough “Blood isn’t everything.”

Dorian’s eyes widen a small fraction but he seemed to recover and placed his trademark smirk, ignoring the hand that refused to leave his leg “Lucky we got that note when we did. Oh, the look on his face!” he let out a weak chuckle and leaned back, eyes closed.

Hawke was sure the other mage was weaker than he cared to admit but kept it to himself, not willing to sacrifice the quiet and… _friendship?_ with another fight. Not yet, at least…

“What _was_ that note, anyway?”

Dorian reached into his pocket and pulled out the crumbled piece of parchment, handing it to Hawke who gawked.

_Servis,_

_Be advised about the arrival of a special member. He is a highly classified asset to the operation and of great importance in the Imperium. Treat him well._

_Octavian_

Hawke dared an amused glance at Dorian “Scout Harding?”

“Scout Harding.” the other answered with a tired grin.

Hawke folded the paper and reached for Dorian’s pocket, leaning on the mages left shoulder. Dorian was almost dozing off and barely registered the other’s movement but when his staff threatened to fall from its place, leaning on the rock, Dorian jolted awake and made a quick grab for it, hissing in pain and clutching his right shoulder.

Hawke reached for the staff at the same time and managed to grab it when Dorian’s hand slipped from the sudden pain “You’ve been in pain since before we left Skyhold.”

“You don’t say… hadn’t quite figured out what it was yet.”

Dorian tried but Hawke was having none of that “Why haven’t you seen a healer?”

“What makes you think I haven’t…?”

“Because you can barely move your arm. How you even manage to fight an entire keep is beyond me!”

“Desperate times…” Dorian smirked “I was feeling much better actually, until that Mortalitasi knocked me down.” he sighed and glanced at Hawke sheepishly “I didn’t see a healer, no. But I _know_ my way around poultices and potions well enough, thank you. It may take a while longer to heal but it’s better than the alternative.”

“The alternative being, they heal you in a few minutes?” the Champion asked, frowning. Dorian lowered his gaze, hand hovering over the hurt shoulder as if willing it to heal and Hawke saw shame in his eyes “How did you get hurt?” he barely whispered.

Dorian fixed his gaze on the rock in front of him and after a while Hawke wasn’t expecting him to answer, until the Altus’ voice spoke, barely audible.

“I was in the library, researching as always... I saw Bull and Varric head to the tavern and thought I’d join them. I was halfway down the stairs when you arrived. I thought “Maker, he is everywhere”.” a pitiful chuckled left his pale lips “I figured it was best to leave the drinking for another time and turned around to leave but…”

Hawke’s hand found its way back to Dorian’s knee and gave an encouraging squeeze.

“There were… three Templars. They, huh… blocked my passage. I thought nothing of it, it’s a normal occurrence. They call me a few choice words, spit when I walk by or leave unpleasant gifts by my door.”

Hawke’s hand squeezed again but this time it was an attempt to control his anger “Unpleasant gifts?”

“Dead mice or birds. Once there was small Fennec. Poor thing was probably caught in a fight.” he gave a small smile and a sniffle “I kept it actually.”

“You… kept a _dead_ Fennec…?”

Dorian managed a small smirk “You’d be surprised with what Necromancy can do. Don’t tell the Inquisitor.”

Hawke was torn between confused and amused but he smiled at the image of Dorian, reading in bed, with a blue, glowing Fennec curled up in his lap. He saved that information for a later conversation and encouraged Dorian to continue.

“Yes, well… this time they took my staff, thinking it would prevent me from using magic. For Templars they weren’t all that smart when it came to mages. They cornered me against a wall and proceeded to insult me and then…” he took a shaky breath “one of them said “I hear you’re twisted. That you like to beg for a man’s cock… like a whore...”.” Hawke flinched at the words but Dorian’s gaze was fixed on the rock, eyes glazed “I tried leaving or reaching for my staff but they pinned me to the wall. I could have hurt them if I wanted to. I could have split open the ground and burned them all to ash…”

The Inquisitor’s words rang in Hawke’s mind _Dorian is stronger than you think_ and he had seen it first-hand. It occurred to him that, if Dorian had wanted to, he could have brought half of Skyhold down. Those Templars had no idea how lucky they were, Hawke realized.

“Why didn’t you…?” he found himself asking.

Dorian turned to him, eyes wet with unshed tears “Because I’m not a monster. I will _not_ prove them right by giving in to the slightest provocation. I am _better_ than that.”

That moment, the Champion became aware of something that forever changed his opinion of the mage beside him. Dorian Pavus was the most powerful mage he had ever known and he was determined to not let it show.

“They proceeded to punch me in the gut and one of them pulled out a dagger and stabbed me in the shoulder.” he said too casually “It must have been coated in something and, well…” he turned to face Hawke and rolled up his sleeve carefully.

The Champion stifled a gasp at the sight. The arm was covered in dark veins and the skin was a pale green that reminded him of the poison Isabela coated her daggers with “Poison?”

Dorian shrugged “It must be. The potions ease the pain and the poultice _has_ helped with the… appearance.”

“You should still see a healer. Andraste’s ass, no wonder Bull was furious.” he ran his hand thought his dark locks, as he did when he was nervous.

“Bull? He wasn’t too happy about it but he’s over protective. Like a giant, horned, mother hen.”

“He, huh, actually punched me… after you left.” at Dorian’s raised eyebrow Hawke explained “He told me to never call you a… you know.”

Understanding dawned in Dorian’s face and he chuckled and leaned back against the rock, eyes drifting shut “Sorry about that. It slipped out.”

“I deserved it. Hurt like the Void but I’ve been hit by Qunari before. Still, I think you should tell the Inquisitor. Not sure Bull hasn’t done that yet, since they’re… you know… Dorian?” when he was met with silence he turned to find the other mage half-asleep. His breath was ragged and his skin still hadn’t regained color. Hawke feared this was more than exhaustion or drained mana. He felt Dorian’s face and found it ice cold and sweaty. _Fever_ , he thought “Damn you, you stubborn idiot…” he muttered as he pulled Dorian close and lay the mage’s head on his chest, intent on trying to keep him as warm as possible, with the night’s cold not far.

Cole’s words filled his head and his arms held tighter… _They hurt him…_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I gave in to Dorian being all powerful (because it's sexy as hell and it just fits him) and bear with me on the whole "Necromancy allows you to keep dead Fennec as pets." ^^ I just loved the idea of Dorian having a little spirit possess Fennec hovering around so I'll play a little bit with his magic.
> 
> p.s: Scout Harding rocks!  
> p.p.s: here's an amazing render by Luffymarra about this chapter :) http://dankia.deviantart.com/art/Hawke-does-care-597828784


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's finally here! So sorry for the (absurdly) late post, rl is a pain in the ass!  
> As for the chapter itself... I couldn't resist... =P  
> Hope you enjoy!

When Dorian finally awoke he noticed two things, almost instantly. One, he was laying in something very comfortable and two he was feeling warm – _very_ warm. He searched his tired brain for information and remembered being in a hole with Hawke after blowing up a keep full of venatori. After that it was all a blur, really.

He was beginning to feel light-headed and tried to move away from the heat surrounding him. The action proved difficult and he began to feel agitated that he could barely move when a voice spoke too close to his ear “Stop moving. You’ll re-open your wound.”

Dorian tensed for a brief second before recognizing the voice. That, of course, made him tense for a whole new reason. Taking a moment to sort things out he quickly realized that his leg was bandaged, as was his shoulder and that the reason he couldn’t move was because he was lying in a cot in the arms of Garett-Maker help him- Hawke! One brief look at himself told him he was wearing very thin clothes and by the feel of the other man’s chest against his back – they were spooning! – Hawke was shirtless.

He felt the arms around him tighten their hold and the voice spoke again, with a sleepy roll “It’s still early. Go back to sleep.”

Dorian would love nothing more but the hard muscles of the Champion’s arms around him and the warmth of his chest had left him fully awake. Not to mention that damn scent that haunted Dorian’s senses with every breeze – leather and magic. How _does_ someone smell of magic anyway?! Dorian berated his imagination for even coming up with the damn idea in the first place and cleared his throat.

“Might I know the reason behind this… shall we call it “over-familiar”… embrace?”

“What do you mean…?” Hawke drawled voice heavy with sleep.

A spike of anger pocked at Dorian. Was the man so thick he didn’t see it? Should Dorian draw him a picture? A diagram? He was Ferelden and if that solution worked for Blackwall it must be something all Ferelden’s understood. On the other hand the man was barely conscious so a more _physical_ approach might just do the trick. Dorian narrowed his eyes and moved his hips, thrusting into the other man. From the sharp intake of breath behind him Dorian knew he was successful but his victory quiet down when Hawke’s hand grabbed hold of his tunic in a tight fist. Looking down, he could see the tanned hand straining on his stomach, pulling at his clothes like a lifeline.

Dorian cleared his throat “Yes, well… point made. May I have an answer then?”

“Your wounds infected.” Hawke spoke in a low, hoarse tone and Dorian would be lying if he said he didn’t feel a shiver “You had a fever. The healer at camp tended your wounds and told me to keep you warm.”

Dorian waited for a development on the tale but Hawke seemed to be done talking “Ah, well… thank you then.” he tried for levity but was sure it fooled no one “But I’m feeling much better now so if you wouldn’t mind…” he made to move from the strong arms only to accidently brush against Hawke again. This time though he was pulled back when the arms tightened around him and Hawke whispered furiously in his ear “Stop doing that.”

Whatever reply Dorian might have thought of quickly fled when all blood left his brain. He found himself pressed flush against the Champion, feeling every rise and fall of the man’s chest as he breathed against Dorian’s neck, causing him to shiver. Maybe it was the fever, maybe it was his own lack of self-preservation or maybe it was having Hawke’s presence around him every day for the last week but something inside him snapped. He felt his eyes close and thrust back, intentionally pressing harder and had to bit his lip to stop a moan when he felt the other’s hardness dug into him.

Hawke replied with a low groan and thrust his hips forward making Dorian gasp “What are you doing?” he asked.

“Not sure…” Dorian replied, his lower body seemingly comfortable and eager to continue pushing against the other’s. Hawke, on the other hand, seemed thorn between meeting him half-way and staying completely still which made Dorian wonder “Should I stop?”

His answer was a sharp nip on the neck before Hawke began rutting against him, with short, hard thrusts. Hawke’s hand left his tunic and found its way up his chest, pausing to pinch at a nipple – causing Dorian to arch into the touch – and stopped on his neck, gripping loosely as if to make sure the mage would not run away.

Dorian, of course, had no intention of running. He reached back and grabbed hold of Hawke’s hip pulling him closer and arching his back when the Champion’s other hand moved under him and lay spread over his chest, rubbing at his nipples and scratching at the fabric causing the mage to moan and shiver.

If anyone had told Dorian he would find himself surrounded by the object of his fantasies, thrusting like a dog against him, all raw power and strength and just pure _want_ , he would have laughed bitterly at the impossibility. Now he wished his leg and arm were healed so he could wrestle the arms around him, turn to face the man and taste every corner of his mouth. Said mouth latched at his collarbone and sucked a deep red mark while Dorian could do nothing but pant and roll his body in waves of pleasure, trapped in the other man’s embrace.

Hawke’s hand left his neck and traveled lower down his body, stopping every now and then to tease any bit of flesh the movement had revealed “Do you want this?” Hawke asked, his voice almost a growl from the tension. Dorian nodded before he even knew what “this” was but if it meant Hawke’s body and Hawke’s hands and – Maker help him! – Hawke’s mouth then he wanted it now!

When the calloused hand pressed against his straining length Dorian cried out and found his mouth quickly covered, Hawke’s fingers prying inside “You don’t want to wake up the whole camp now do you?” Dorian shook his head and Hawke’s chuckle turned into a gasp when the mage sucked one finger and bit teasingly.

Hawke wasted no time in pressing harder against his clothed erection and trapping Dorian between his hand and the hardness the altus imagined while sucking on the strong fingers.

It was both exhilarating and maddening and Dorian groaned in frustration that he could barely move. He pushed back, a clear declaration of needing space and when the body behind him moved an inch he turned to find-

 

-an empty cot.

“Well good morning, your lordship.” Hawke’s amused voice sounded from the tent’s entry and Dorian found himself blinking owlishly at the empty space. He felt Hawke draw nearer and crouch down next to him. Suddenly, the man’s large had was on his forehead.

“Your fever’s down. Thank the Maker…” Hawke sighed, not resisting the urge to comb a stray lock of hair from Dorian’s eyes “You had us worried there.”

Dorian finally decided to turn, confusion clouding his head and found himself staring into Hawke’s worries eyes. The man tried for a smile but it was clear he was relieved and the tiredness never left his face.

Dorian cleared his throat and did his best to sound casual “Yes, well… It takes more a few venatori and a pile of rocks on my head to kill me.”

Hawke chuckled “Clearly. You were gone for two days and your temperature wouldn’t drop. The damn poison in your body didn’t help matters, either.”

The altus sighed, trying to take in the information “Fever…?”

“You had a high fever… the healers treated your wounds and the poison but you lost too much mana and collapsed from exhaustion.” the Champion’s eyes narrowed worriedly “I’ve told you this already…. don’t you remember?”

He did! But then… it hadn’t been a dream? Had he been lying in Hawke’s arms and did he… they…

“ _Festis bei umo canavarum_ …” he sighed and pinched his nose.

“If you’re swearing then I guess you’re alright after all.”

Hawke’s smile was unnerving in a way that made him remember what those lips could do and he groaned and hid his head under the blanket, raven hair sticking out.

“The healer’s will come by later to see you.” the man continued thought Dorian couldn’t see him “You also need to eat but for now you can rest a bit longer. Clear your head.”

Dorian felt fingers comb slowly through his hair and resisted the urge to purr. Maybe later he could try and make sense of what really happened but, for now, he wanted to sleep and dream of strong arms keeping him warm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can you believe this was supposed to be a 3 to 5 chapter story..? O_o  
> Next chapter on the works!


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dorian and Hawke make their way back to Skyhold. Awkwardness ensues, Hawke has a vivid imagination and Felix is adorable. I regret nothing!
> 
> Tags updated :)

The journey back to Skyhold was filled with an uncomfortable silence. Dorian rode his horse, eyes on the road and Hawke couldn’t find a reason to start a conversation. He managed to say small things like _are you feeling better?_ or _I hope we don’t find trouble on the road_ ; there was a brief mention of Dorian’s dead pet fennec (or was it pet dead fennec?) and Hawke had to resist the urge to talk about the weather.

In all honesty, he wasn’t sure he was comfortable enough to broach any sort of topic considering the glare the other mage threw his way whenever he asked a question. It was as if Dorian was angry at him for no particular reason. Except… there _was_ a reason. Only Dorian wasn’t supposed to know it.

The Champion’s eyes traveled to the olive colored neck of his companion and he had to bite his cheek to stop from licking his lips at the memory. It was still too fresh in his head and he thank the Maker – or Dorian’s persuasive manner – that he was able to sleep alone for the remaining three nights on the Approach. As soon as the mage had awoken he somehow convinced Scout Harding to let him share a tent with someone other than Hawke. When questioned about this by the man in question Dorian simply sniffed, glared and walked away.

Now, glancing at the man next to him he couldn’t help but feel ashamed of his actions and slightly proud of his healing abilities for making that damn red bruise in Dorian’s neck disappear. No matter how much he wanted it to remain on his dark skin for everyone to see.

***

_He latched his mouth on the soft skin of Dorian’s neck like a hungry man and shivered at the moan that escaped the Altus’ lips. Maker how he wanted to kiss him, pin him down and cover every inch of his skin with his own._

_For days he had been watching the mange, wondering if maybe he was mistaken about him and realizing Dorian was so much more than he expected. Bull’s blighted words rang in his head every time the mage walked by, sauntering like he owned the place and knew that every pair of eyes on camp was drawn to him. He was gorgeous and he knew it._

_Then there was the damn “almost kiss” at the keep when Dorian’s lips brushed against his cheek. He didn’t know if magic was to blame for their behavior at that time but it was another nail in his head. They were, eventually, found by Scout Harding and Hawke refused to let anyone other than himself carry the unconscious man back to camp, keeping a close eye – and a closer body – on him at all times._

_So when he found himself spooning the man in his sleep he found he couldn’t quite move and was glad that he was tasked with keeping him warm. It was an excuse, but it was also a necessity. Dorian had, of course, wondered and even if Hawke faked sleep the mage had been…_ very _insisting._

_This caused Hawke’s little self-control to snap._

_“Do you want this?” he asked, hoping Dorian was coherent enough to reply. When the other mage nodded there was no turning back. He sucked and nipped at Hawke’s fingers and the Champion could only growl with the burning need to taste that mouth. His imagination ran wild when Dorian moaned against his fingers and he felt it on an area he would very much like to set free._

_His hand finally lost the battle and he cupped Dorian’s hardness, biting his own lip to regain some control and after a few thrusts and the haze that followed he felt the mage’s hand on his hip loosen, his nails no longer digging into him. Next came the soft sigh and he realized with a bitter laugh – Dorian had fallen asleep._

_He ran his hand thought the mage’s raven hair and surprised himself by planting a kiss there before standing and thanking whatever deities there was no awake at the camp to see him take his business elsewhere._

_The following nights had been a small torture. Alone in his tent there was no one to stop him from reaching down and letting his imagination run wild. Not that he needed it much considering he had had the man in his arms just the night before. Still, he could always go a little further in his head. How, instead of in his arm, the mage would be sprawled under him, legs apart to give Hawke the perfect fit. How he would plunge that mouth, drinking the others moans and not letting him up for air until he had taken his fair share._

_His hand sped up and he buked his hips at the thought of thrusting against the other’s hardness, feeling those nails dug into his back and panting against his ear as he left another mark no one would heal._

_He bit into his fist to stop the loud moans as he tightened his grip and pictured himself sliding into Dorian’s tight heat and almost arched of the cot when his orgasm hit him by surprise._

_He was left panting, eyes wide and clothes dirty, wondering when the Void had he fallen so deep…_

***

His horse’s whine brought him back to the present and he failed to stop the blush that spread across his face. Next to him Dorian remained his, now, usual cold self and Hawke had to wonder if maybe he had taken things too far. Did Dorian even remember? Or did he have some misconception of the events that night?

With a sigh Hawke’s hand found his hair for the hundredth time that week. Maybe he _had_ gone too far. Dorian had still been feverish and could have even mistaken Hawke for someone else. The thought turned his stomach and he pushed it aside. They _had_ spoken; he _did_ seem to know where he was and who he was with. So what then? Was he embarrassed for passing out? Did he blame Hawke for having taken advantage of him? Or was he angry that Hawke didn’t mention it the next morning?

Whatever it was he had only theories unless he confronted the man and _that_ , he was sure, wasn’t happening anytime soon. Not while he was the target of Dorian’s glares.

***

They arrived at Skyhold in record time, no bandits or demons to defeat on the way. Dorian made a show of getting off his horse like the proper elite that he was, gave a short nod in Hawke’s general direction and retired to his room for some warmth, peace and quiet.

He flopped down on his bed rather ungracefully and huffed. How could it be that in the span of two weeks he had gone from enjoying how a man looks, to being attracted, hated, depended upon and downright attacked by said man. Mind you he didn’t mind the attack at all – if it _had_ happened. Nothing in Hawke’s demeanor gave any indication that it had and Dorian wasn’t sure if he was glad for it or disappointed. _Disappointed, of course_ his mind supplied.

He groaned and covered his face, hoping it would stop the unruly thoughts in his head. It didn’t. His only hope now was that the man would leave Skyhold to find his friend and Dorian would never have to see him again. The thought made his chest clench and he curled on his side, ignoring how it reminded him of his dream and Hawke’s broad chest pressed against him.

Something cold touched his nose and he wrinkled it with a fond smile “Hello Felix. Missed me, did you?” Eyes still closed he pulled the smaller body close and held him. The little creature gave a content sigh as he curled in his owner’s arms and moved his head, asking to have his flat ears scratched “I missed you too.” Dorian sighed contently.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Looking forward to your comments :)


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I am finally back home with internet! Again, sorry for the delay in updating (you must be getting real sick of me) but the good news is that this story is almost finished and all planned out! :) Part 2 will be coming shortly after.  
> Hope the chapter makes up for the delay ^^

“Why is it that, when you say that, all I can picture is Hawke walking away as the keep explodes?” Varric asked shuffling his cards.

“I was there too, you know?” Dorian said.

“Yes, passed out in Hawke’s arms if I heard correctly.”

“You did indeed.” said Scout Harding sharing a look with the other dwarf.

“Don’t you have something better to do than spouting tales?” Dorian glared at the woman “One annoying dwarf is enough as it is.”

“You wound me, Sparkler.” mocked Varric, hand on his chest.

“Not enough it appears. You’re still here.”

“Hey Vint!” Bull’s voice echoed as he entered the small tavern and sat with the group “Heard you kicked some venatori ass.” he gave Dorian a pat in the back that almost sent him sprawling “Way to go!”

“Well at least _someone_ heard the correct version.”

Varric matched Dorian’s mock glare with a smirk “They are all the correct versions, Sparkler. Even the ones that embarrass you.”

Dorian muttered something as Bull laughed loudly enough to draw Sera’s attention from her room above “What?! Is he blushin’?” she gave a high squeal and hoped on the table “I think he’s turning purple!”

“This is what I get for saving the day…” the mage muttered, completely ignoring the man walking into the tavern or how said man paused at the sight of him and gulped.

***

When the Champion entered the tavern, Varric’s face turned into a wide grin, pleased to see his friend and pleased to have new material to torment Dorian with. The Altus’ back was turned to the door but when Hawke approached he visibly stiffened in his seat and that only made Bull and Varric smile harder.

“Champion!” called the Qunari “Come! Have a drink! We’re celebrating.”

Hawke took a seat next to Dorian – much to the mage’s annoyance – and proceeded to take a sip of the Fereldan Ale Bull pushed his way.

“How was the War Counsil?” asked Varric “Bloody?”

Hawke sighed “It could have been better. I don’t know if the Inquisitor was relieved we stopped a Venatori plan or angry that we were there in the first place.”

“Yes…” agreed Bull “Took some time to convince her _not_ to throw you both in the cells for a week. She was _really_ tense.”

“That part I didn’t need to know.” spoke Varric.

“Pfff… bet you unwind her real good.” giggled Sera, receiving a chorused groan.

“How is destroying a Venatori keep reason to be angry?” asked Dorian.

“Well… she wasn’t all that pleased that you were hurt and that we ended up trapped.”

“We’re at war! People are going to get hurt one way or another and we weren’t _trapped_. We were simply… detained.”

“Leave it for a vint, specifying trouble.” muttered Varric.

“It wasn’t all that bad.”

“You were passed out for a good part of it.” said Hawke “Though you _are_ heavier than you look.” this got him a fierce glare from the other mage and he had to smile, since this was the first time they had been together since the Approach and he was glad for not being ignored “If you weren’t so important to the Inquisitor I would have left you there.”

“Would you, really?”

Hawke’s smile faltered at the sadness he found in that little question, despite the man’s effort to make it seem casual. _Would_ he have left Dorian there? Even if it had happened before? When Dorian was just another Tevinter; another mage who represented much of what he hated in life? _Would he?_

“No.”

***

The first think that attracted Dorian to the library was, well, the books. He had found some amazing of the so called “gifts” to the Inquisition in the mist of all the _other_ tomes he usually referred to as “the epitome of stupidity, collected in a large leather case of shit” – in so many words.

The reason why he hadn’t simply picked the best books and retired to his own room, choosing to create a niche of sort, was the silence. The perfect silence one would get, at least during nighttime when Leliana finally saw fit to let her birds fly and do whatever birds did. That’s the thought that passed his head when he dropped in his comfortable chair, with an audible sigh and picked the smaller tome at the top of the closest pile. Yes… the perfect, absolute silence of shelves rattling and books falling, followed by muffled curses, not so muffled after all. _What in the Void?_

Dorian stood with a huff and glanced to the right and then the left. Another thud followed by _fuck!_ and Dorian rolled his eyes and dragged his feet in the direction of the voice he knew too well to find himself facing the man he was so blatantly trying to ignore.

“We have to stop meeting like this.” the Altus drawled all too casually.

Hawke turned so fast he stumbled and hit the bookcase with a hiss. He promptly rubbed his injured shoulder and glared at Dorian who merely raised a questioning eyebrow “I’m not meeting you.” the champion muttered.

“My apologies, then. I’ll let you get back to drunkenly destroying the Inquisitor’s library. I’m sure she’ll thank you, really. She’s not much of a reader. All that blunt muscle training makes for poor-.”

“You’re babbling.” said Hawke with an amused smirk.

Dorian’s mouth slammed shut and he brushed the invisible dust on his clothes, standing a little straighter “Yes, well… I was in the middle of a very important research so…”

“Oh don’t stop on my account. Then again, you hardly ever do.”

Dorian flinched at the other’s words and wondered how drunk the Champion really was. It _was_ true that Dorian made an extra effort to turn a corner or leave the tavern when the other approached. Dream or no dream there was something more than mere attraction between them – at least for his part – and he knew very well how that ended. _I’m sorry, Dorian; It’s really for the best; You didn’t seriously think-?_ but he _had thought_. He had hoped and wished and wondered and it had all ended the same bitter and sad way. So why would he allow whatever spark existed to grow? No! He would stamp it with his foot until it ceased to exist.

“I didn’t realize one should stop and bow whenever the Champion graced us with his presence.”

This earned him a hard stare from said Champion “Don’t.”

“Don’t what?! Pretend to bask in your glory like the low Tevinter scum I am? I suppose I should fear you given your fame at hunting down slavers and magisters! I am, after all, from the same breed as those Tevinter _rats_ -.”

He was suddenly pushed against the wooden shelves by an angry Hawke who stood too close to his liking, pinning him to the bookcase by his shoulders. “Don’t act like the bastard I know you aren’t.”

“You know _nothing_ about me.” Dorian seethed.

“I know blood doesn’t make a man. And I know you puff and huff but deep down you care and you’re smart enough to not get caught in situations you can’t walk out of. I know you’ve been avoiding me and I’m sorry for being a Fereledan savage with no self-control and for-.”

“ _What_ in Andreaste’s name are you talking about?!” the Altus almost asked with a pinch of annoyance for the other’s drunken speech.

Hawke had the decency to look away but he never released his hold on Dorian. From the short distance the mage could tell the slight blur in the other’s eyes and the blushing cheeks. He _was_ intoxicated but that didn’t diminish his strength nor his resolve at keeping Dorian trapped. It did, however, loosen his tongue and, suddenly, Dorian was met with an outburst that left him at a loss for words.

“I was an idiot and I was a downright _bastard_ and you have every right to hate and avoid me.” he gulped and Dorian found himself mirroring the motion “Now I may just be a dumb Fereldan brute who couldn’t find his own ass with a map and I may have been wrong about people I… cared about in the past” Dorian’s eyes widened slightly at the confession of care but Hawke didn’t seem to notice, too entranced in his own speech “but I am _not_ wrong about _you_. I can’t be! Not again! So don’t act like because it makes me _angry_ ” he demonstrated by squeezing Dorian’s shoulder a little too tightly but the Altus never protested, still in shock “and it makes feel like a piece of shit for even thinking of you like that in the first place when you are…” Hawke’s gaze found his own again and there was an intensity to it that made Dorian’s brain stutter to a halt “ _You_ , Dorian Pavus, are…”

He reached for Dorian’s cheek, hand hovering as if afraid to touch. He searched the other’s eyes as if asking for permission and when Dorian blinked he allowed his fingers to land on the darker skin, as soft as he remembered but now warm instead of burning hot from the fever. He traced the shape of the other’s nose, his chin and brow. When Dorian’s tongue peeked to wet his lips, Hawke brushed his thumb over them and the mage let them fall apart. The low growl that sounded from Hawke’s chest was nothing human and he reveled in the memory of his fingers being sucked by a greedy mouth. One glance up and he saw his darken gaze mirrored in the other man’s and is control vanished.

“You are... damn _beautiful_!”

His mouth descended on Dorian’s and whatever sounds escaped the altus were swallowed whole. He pressed his body flush against Dorian’s, feeling every buckle, fabric, muscle and skin, merging with his and groaned at the feeling. The other’s hands dug into his back before slipping to grasp at his hips and Hawke had to concentrate to not thrust into the other man.

Dorian, on the other hand, wanted nothing more. Hawke’s hands pinned him against the shelve with a strength enough to bruise; a strength only a _man_ could have and he moaned into the mouth he had wanted to kiss since that blasted dream. When Hawke’s teeth sun into his neck he arched into the other’s body and prayed for a mark that would last; that would prove him to be awake and Hawke’s presence real. He was about to pull those still hips closer when the other mage gave an almost pained whimper and stopped.

Eyes cast down, Hawke pried Dorian’s fingers from his hips and had to force himself to step back. The other’s confused expression cut deep but he hoped it was obvious how it pained him to stop.

“I’m sorry…” he whispered brokenly.

Whatever else he meant to say was cut short by the flash of pain in Dorian’s expression, followed by a blank face “I understand.” he stated with no emotion.

“No… you don’t. I…”

“We are at war. It would harmful for the Inquisition if we weren’t completely committed to the cause.”

“Dorian-.”

“Not to mention the rumors. The Champion of Kirkwall can’t be seen fraternizing with the Tevinter. It would be scandalous, at best.”

“I don’t-.”

“We should be honest with ourselves and realize this was never going to be anything that mattered and it’s simply not worth the trouble.”

“Will you listen to me?!” Hawke almost screamed.

“No.” Dorian answered, unfazed by the outburst “Whatever excuse or reason you have, I assure you I have heard them all. They are all lies and they are all true. And I believe I have, at least, earned the right to refuse them.”

Despite his cold demeanor, Hawke could see the small cracks of pain in his eyes, the twitch of his kiss-swollen lips or the tension in his shoulders and it made him want to reach out and shake him until he understood. It also made him want to find whoever made him “used to excuses” and make them bleed.

“Good night, serah.” were the last words he heard from Dorian that night.

The next day, a message was delivered. Stroud had been found and Hawke left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Check out chapter 9 for an amazing render by Luffymarra which can be found here Hawke does care  
> http://dankia.deviantart.com/art/Hawke-does-care-597828784
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> As always, don’t be shy and leave a comment! I love reading your opinions and ideas. It’s the best part of writing :)  
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